Holding out for a Hero
by aberaham tulip
Summary: Sometimes even heroes need saving. Kim Possible is about to learn that the wait isn't always worth the price.
1. Days of Routine

Disclaimer: Kim Possible is nota walrus bent on destroying New Guinny. Heck, I don't even know where that is. Sounds cool though. I do not own any of the characters from any series to pop up in the course of this fiction. If you're courious about whethera character that you don't reconginze is my brain child feel free to ask. Please don't Sue, your questions make my head hurt. ;-

Dotted lines are scene changes, if you know of a way to insert multiple spaces let me know. Cause this system hates me.

OH and shameless plug. Read my other KP fic, Hero in me Warning it's rated R

Rating: pg13-- may go R later, not sure. And now on to the story

Her body tensed as it flipped through the air. Muscles ill-used in normal ventures strained and stretched as she called upon them. The black business suit that adorned her fit body was out of place amid the deep greens of the dojo. Her descent was rapid but controlled, bringing her down next to one fo the many potted plants lining the edges of the forest green mat that was the only protection against the hard wooden floor. A grimace passed her lips as her right knee struck the floor, it was a thin mat. Her opponent watched her as she landed, taking a mental note at the position she used. Her body was hunched over, her back covering her left leg, which was bent at a ninety degree angle. Her left knuckles laid upon the ground next to her left heel. Her right knuckles were in a straight line from their counterparts. Her right leg broke the symmetry. Its knee touched the ground. Before his eyes her head lifted, the emerald eyes staring at him.

His body moved through the air, defying the young woman to stop him. She sprung forward, her entire body becoming a powerful weapon. The two met halfway, her superior momentum carrying her into his waiting fist. Her head slammed into the dark green mat once again. As she attempted to recover he shot forward again, only to fall as a leg slammed into the back of his shin. Smirking, Kim rose from the crouch she'd preformed the leg swipe in. She was thankful for that move, as she'd been many times before. Before her eyes he rose, as if he had not mere seconds before crashed the ground, head striking the floor.

This was not good. A coat of sweat covered her form, she'd been retired too long for this. She'd thought this part of her life was over, had made sure of it, but even now, four years later, she found herself trapped in the same stupid cycle.

"When will it end?"

The words became a desperate scream as they left her mouth. Her emerald eyes fastened on her attacker. He stood, waiting patiently, silently. Her pretty mouth twisted itself into a snarl, her eyes alight with anger. She gave up all pretense of control as she charged forward, her entire body pushing itself to new extremes. Her limbs struck out, setting a deadly pace that the man matched with ease. Her hand shot out, fingers in a rigid shape, mimicking that of a blade. His body twisted, the knife hand glancing off his pectorals, missing the hollow where his sternum lay. His hand thrust out, gripping her neck, even as knee thudded into her stomach, expelling the last of her air. The world grew dim as she struggled uselessly. Her final vision was of a leering youth with curly hair.

Holding Out for a Hero

She shot up, her head striking her friend's as she did so. With a weary groan Ron Stoppable looked at his best friend, Kim Possible. She was shaking a little, a look of terror on her face, her small hands traced the curves of her neck, almost as if she was checking something. Or for something.

"Have that nightmare again?"

His yawn echoed throughout the cabin, reminding her that it hadn't been real, that it never was. Her eyes turned, taking in the boy next to her. He was still clad in their mission clothes, as was she, so she was protected from his Smarty-Mart style. On his face was plastered a look of concern, one she'd seen all too often in their young lives. His hair was messier than usual, the mission and the fight tousling it until- a flash of cold ran through her as fear engulfed her entire body. Flashes from the dream came back, the nightmare that plagued her on many nights.

"It was you."

The words breathed past her lips. His look of concern grew as she shrank back from him, fear in her eyes. She looked so small, so fragile, so unlike the Kim Possible he'd known most of his life. The strong confident woman she'd become had vanished and he was left with the scared little preschooler he'd first met all those years ago. Her words slightly confused him, but he knew the dream well enough to piece it all together. She'd told him about it often enough. Mysterious stranger attacks her four years after she's retired in a mysteriously green dojo, all she ever gets to see before he kills her is a flash of yellow hair and a leering grin. Apparently he was the one doing it. Which was absurd, he would never hurt her. Surely she knew that. But maybe she needed to hear it. When he spoke his voice was warm and soothing, exactly what she needed.

"Kim, come on you know I'd never hurt you."

Suddenly she flung herself forward her small body pressing against his. Her arms wrapped around him as she sobbed lightly. It was an awkward situation made more so by the simple fact that he was a boy and she was a rather pretty girl. With a gracious smile he just patted her on the back softly, while the aircraft sped through the early morning sky.

--------------------------------

The soft morning light spilled through the police car's windows. The warm glow covered the form of the evil sidekick, Shego. The girl's raven locks hung deeply, obscuring her face. This was humiliating. Once again, she was beaten by a teenaged cheerleader. That wasn't right. It sure as hell wasn't fair. And the worst part of it all was she had to listen to her employer whine about it all the way to the local jail.

And why the hell was it taking so long? She was pretty sure the nearest jailhouse couldn't be that damn far away from the latest lair Possible had trashed. It seemed like they'd been driving for over an hour, though it was possible that was only because Drakken hadn't shut up.

Some would wonder why she, so obviously the better villain, put up with Drakken. At times she questioned her own motivations, right now was one of those times.

It was amazing the lungs on the blue mad 'scientist,' even mentally she had to add the air quotes. After all, even thinking of Drakken as a scientist was an insult to the entire profession.

The car skidded to a halt. For the first time since the beginning to the trip Shego really paid attention to her surroundings. Around her were massive trees. They towered high into the sky, creating a massive natural prison of sorts. They were also a perfect place to plan an escape.

Her nimble fingers tore into her bounds with a renewed vigor. Her hands burned with a stinging heat that both singed her flesh and melted the metal of her cuffs. She leaned forward, allowing even more room for the molten metal to drip down onto the cushion below her. When she was free her foot lashed out, forcing the car door forward. It swung into emptiness even as she propelled herself out of the car, ready to take the cops down. She didn't need to. Of the two cops that had been transporting them one was already dead. The other, a man that looked about thirty-five was clutching at his arm.

The twin trails of blood leaking from it matched the color of his face. Shego wasn't quite sure how it was possible, nor did she want to learn. The sight before her sickened her. The officer, the one that had been driving, was on his knees, body trembling, blood leaking from him.

Before him was a man, well built with a stern expression and beautiful dark hair that flowed like a wave across his scalp. Twin eyes of brown stared ruthlessly down at the cop. The man in question held a pistol with little unease. It was pointing at the cops head. When he spoke the voice that poured from his lips was not one of dulcet tones and plentiful speeches. It was quite the opposite in fact.

"Just so you know, your family's already dead. Your wife was pretty tight, fought back though. Had to punish her for that. It was quite fun."

With that he pulled the trigger. The hammer slammed against the body of the metal monstrosity even as the bullet emerged from its silver sheath. Grey death sped forward, ripping through the soft tissues of the officer's flesh, as it forced itself down towards his brain.

Shego cringed as bits of eyeball shot out from where the bullet entered the man's skull. She bit back the urge to hurl.

The gunman turned towards her even as Drakken pulled himself from the car, his hands still cuffed.

"Drakken, Shego, the name's Ken Dure. I have a proposition for you."


	2. It Begins

Usual Disclaimer applies.  Oh and Please, please review.  If it sucks and you never ever ever want to read it again let me know.  If you feel otherwise let me know.  And if you can in detail that would be great.  At this point any feedback would be amazing.  I'm thinking of revising my style so I would love opinions.

Chapter 2:  It Begins

Light streamed through the dusty windows embedded in the ceiling of the massive storage area. Motes of dust clung heavily to tarpaulins covering oddly shaped creations. Where the small shafts of light actually penetrated the glass of the high windows small boxes lay, the golden light illuminating dust floating around them. Metal pillars jutted from the floor at random intervals, going so high as to touch the ceiling. Large shelves lined one corner of the place. More tarpaulins covered smaller, but no less oddly shaped devices. The heavy steel doors exploded inward, flying off their hinges to crash into the ground. Green fire slowly extinguished itself upon the grey metal.

"Why are we doing this again?"

"For the last time Shego it's all part of the master plan."

The whiney, nasally voice of Doctor Drakken could easily be heard in the silence pervading their current location. Shego's eyes rolled towards the ceiling as she quickly tried to repress her growing anger. She only partially succeeded.

"Right. So what was it again?"

"We lure Possible here and distract her."

"And why are we doing this again?"

"Because, it's our part of the plan."

"Care to be more specific. Or did you space out again?"

His voice was just barely a mumble. She caught bits of the garblings, something about following Dure and that this would work perfectly.

Shego wasn't impressed, her tone made that clear, even to the unobservant, Doctor Drakken.

"And when she gets here, what should we do? Get our assess kicked? I gotta tell you Doctor D, this is the worst idea you've had in a while. I mean it's bad enough when she beats us foiling our evil schemes, now you wanna get beaten for someone else's?"

"Silence Shego! I see what we've come for."

"I thought we were here to attract Kimmie's attention."

His hands gripped a small device. It had two suction cups attached to long thin cords, which in turn were affixed to a small purple box, with an extension cord. Drakken raised it up, his face beaming as he did so.

"Well as long as we're here no reason we can't grab this."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. It looks cool though doesn't it? Dure told me to grab it."

"Oh great. This day just keeps getting better and better."

"Come Shego, back to base. Were we will wait for Kim Possible and the chance to test my new toy."

His evil laughter filled the warehouse, even as Shego stormed back to their hovercraft. He continued for a few seconds, until he realized he was alone. His eyes darted around, searching for her. Then the sound of a revving motor filled his ears. He bolted, his thin legs propelling him forward, even as his trill voice screamed, "Shego, wait for meeee!"

* * *

Sunlight streamed through thoroughly polished windows. Streaks of cleaner refracted the light, causing small rainbows to appear across tables. People bustled around, some behind the counter taking orders and preparing food, others receiving orders placed minutes before and preparing to devour the food placed in front of them. Many of Middleton's high school seniors were here. Having received the day off for senior Friday, many were enjoying lunch in the little town's sole fast food restaurant. Not that the service was incredibly fast, but it was fast, and greasy, enough for a blonde and his pet. The two chirped happily before face planting into their food. Bits of processed cheese and meats flew into the air, landing indiscriminately upon the once sterilely clean plastic table top. The girl sitting across from the two merely sighed, posing a familiar question again, once the boy came up for air.

"So Ron, how about it?"

First, the blonde sighed, then he ripped into his nacho, taking a massive bite of the processed food product of his own invention. As he chewed noisily, the black girl across from him waited expectantly. Finally his mouth was free of delicious fast food goodness and her wait was ended.

"Kim's great. She's both funny and smart and everything else I would look for in a girl. It's just... She just doesn't do it for me, no spark."

"You sure you're straight?"

"Yes. It's just Kim's not a girl, she's my best friend. We pretty much grew up together. We're pretty much asexual to each other.

"Oh come on cut the crap man. Girl that fine, you've gotta feel something down there."

The young man's eyes bulged out slightly at hearing Monique speak that way.

"Geez Mon, are you trying to get me killed? I'm not into Kim that way. What's with sudden interest anyway? Wondering if she's taken?"

This time the black girl's eyes bulged slightly, almost exaggeratedly so. They flicked back and forth to her left and right, despite the fact that a solid wall was to her right side.

Ron bit back a chuckle. Monique grinned, a smile replacing the look of suspicion.

"Nope. Got someone already."

The blonde grinned back.

"Really? Do they know it yet."

"Soon. And don't think you're off the hook Stoppable. I still want to know why my girl's not good enough for you."

A sheepish smile crossed his face, his pink pet rolled its eyes.

"I was hoping you forgot."

He'd known she wouldn't. She never did. Every time she got him alone, this was the start of their conversation. They always lapsed into some other topic fairly soon though, so all he had to do was be patient, wait it out. In other words he was in for a long lunch.

Where was Kim?

* * *

About ten miles away two figures faced off. Determination burned brightly in both the slim boy and the fiery redhead that stood across the large room from him. Her green eyes shone with pride and his blue ones did the same.

"So what about you and Stoppable?"

She rolled to the side, the metal claw completely missing her. Her legs propelled her into the air, as Felix's mouth opened again. "When you two gonna make with the babies." Her eyes widened as a metal tentacle caught her in the stomach propelling her back towards the blue mats. Her arms and legs shot out as she hit, crashing against the mats and absorbing some of the impact.

Her insides still felt rumbly. A tentacle hovered over her, waiting for her to rise. She didn't plan on satisfying it. Her hands moved to the side of her head and down, as she arched her back. Muscles strengthened by years of cheerleading and saving the world tensed, and then pushed upwards, supporting her entire weight on the two limbs. When the rest of her body hovered slightly over the floor she tensed her abs, in an effort to bring her legs up. It was successful. The twin appendages snaked into the air, reaching towards the tentacle. The metal limb tried to react, to dodge, as she sprung forward, but she'd already planned for its movement. Strong, limber legs wrapped around the thrashing metal limb.

The thing bucked and pumped, trying to free itself from her grip. Arms and head thrashed widely as the thing cut through the air, countless times. Well, countless if you were hanging upside down by your legs for dear life, like a certain Kimberly Anne Possible.

With a grunt her abs began to work again, pulling her torso up, towards the thrashing tentacle. Her small, dainty hands curled around the metal object. She waited, holding on with all her strength, her eyes firmly affixed on the shiny shell of the thing to which she clung. In it she could see another tentacle attempt to sneak up behind her. She suppressed a smirk.

Felix hid one of his own, unaware of Kimberly's knowledge of his plans. If he had known he'd have been hard pressed to keep his smirk hidden. Her knowledge of the first tentacle, would blind her to the fact that he'd sent out a second one. Currently it was in her blind spot.

It wasn't for long.

The metal appendage struck quickly, pushing itself into the space she had occupied. It met nothing but air. He'd expected that. What he hadn't expected was for her to simply drop. Her nimble feet landed upon the floor, even as the tentacle raced towards his own head. A tap of a button stopped it, but that cost him time. Mere seconds, but he was against Kim Possible. He didn't have seconds.

Before he could react, send another tentacle after her, trigger another non-lethal defense, she was upon him, ripping him from the seat of the chair. And then he was falling through the air, her arms gripping his in a firm embrace. They landed perfectly.

Her smiling face stared into his.

"We're just friends Felix. Like I tell you every week."

He shrugged. "Matter of time. That's all I'm saying."

He tapped a small controller in his pocket. He didn't even need to look anymore, he'd used it enough. The chair lowered itself to the ground, rolling to where Kim held him. She gingerly rested him upon his seat of metal. He smiled up at her.

"Thanks."

"No big."

Three familiar tones stole her attention away from him. She reached into her pocket, pulling forth the all too familiar device that had been custom built for her: the Kimmunicator. The screen flared to life, revealing a pudgy black boy. She didn't smile at the face of her young friend, instead greeting him with a face that was all business.

"What's the sitch Wade?"

"It's Shego Kim, she's escaped."

"Already?"

He looked hesitant, his young face screwing up nervously.

"Um, there's more Kim. This time she didn't wait till she got to jail."

Something settled in the pit of Kim's young stomach, it felt hot and sickening all at once.

"You mean?"

"She killed the cops Kim. Point blank range. Execution."

She fell silent. Her eyes glazed over, as she stared past the monitor, at something only she could see. It wasn't a look the young genius had seen before and it was worrying.

"Kim?"

Her voice was distant, as if her mind wasn't in the same room anymore. It wasn't.

"Don't worry Wade we'll get her."

The genius nodded.

"You ride'll be there in five minutes. Ron's at Beuno Nacho."

She just nodded, her eyes never moving from the empty space they studied.

The screen went black and she slid it back into her pocket. She swung her gaze, her eyes narrowing into angry slits as she did so.

"Sorry Felix, I've gotta-"

"Don't worry about it. Our usual time next week?"

"Yeah."


	3. Anger Management

Disclaimer: I don't own the Kim Possible characters

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: I REALIZE THAT I DON'T UPDATE THAT OFTEN AND THAT THESE STORIES ARE JUST BEGINNING BUT PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW. EVEN IF IT'S JUST THREE WORDS; I.E. I LIKE IT, I HATE IT. PLEASE. THE HIT COUNTER IS VERY UNRELIABLE SO IT REALLY DOESN'T HELP ME KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE READING THIS. PLEASE REVIEW SO I KNOW IF I SHOULD EVEN CONTINUE POSTING HERE..

Some comments would also really help me with my updates. If I think people actually read these things I'll spend more of my significantly limited free time on these instead of playing video games.

* * *

In every child's life comes a time when they must choose. Do they pursue the ideal, the fantasy they have lost faith in, or do they immerse themselves in the mundane first. For Kim Possible the choice was easy. Drakken could wait. She had a stop to make.

* * *

Perhaps there is no greater motivator than guilt. It can consume, and even poison, our minds, much like rage, forcing us to take actions to quell the feelings. It was for this very reason Kim Possible was standing slightly apart from a rather large crowd in a cemetery. She'd never been to this one before. Nor did she know anyone buried here. In some small way that was going to change as soon as the rabbi finished his speech and the large men with shovels standing nonchalantly out of view of the mourners got to work. She listened with half an ear as the rabbi spoke. The prayer was quite brief, at least she thought so. The entire service seemed a bit small to encompass the entirety of the remembrance for a man's life. 

She would have dwelt more, would have started walking down a familiar road, but there wasn't time. Her half aware senses picked up people moving. Each one stepped forward and shoveled some dirt onto the grave marker. Eventually there was noone left but her. She did it too. She owed him that.

She meant to simply walk away, but something seized her limbs, preventing her from moving even a single muscle away from the grave. She couldn't even formulate the thoughts necessary to force a leg forward. Instead the grave loomed in front of her, the man-made chasm whispering its thanks to her for filling it. The darkness inside became impenetrably deep. She wanted to blink it away, but she couldn't bring herself to. Leering faces pranced in the darkness, calling out, thanking her for everything. And then they faded. Forced away by a warm palm upon her shoulder.

She looked up into a puffy rimmed face. The woman who had a hand upon Kim, could only be described as strikingly beautiful, with the emphasis on the striking. Her entire face, even though puffy with tears and clouded with emotional pain, bore a distinct look of quiet dignity. Her raven hair was let loose, cascading down the woman's back. It wouldn't be much of a stress to picture it in a conservative bun though. She wore thick glasses, the kind that bring to mind a nineteen eighties librarian. The woman passed something into Kim's hands.

"He would have wanted you to have this. He spoke so highly of you. You were an inspiration for him." the woman paused for a second as fresh tears fell. "I'm babbling. It's just... I wish he was here. He would have loved to meet you."

"I'm sorry."

The woman's fingers fastened around Kim's chin, delicately turning the girl's head so they locked gazes. "You shouldn't be. This isn't your fault. Everyone makes their own decisions. He never understood that you know? He always blamed himself. Never anyone else. But he never gave up, always tried harder and harder." And then the words broke off, as the sobs broke free and the redheaded hero quickly embraced the crying woman, trying to give back some comfort. After a minute, most probably less, the crying woman pulled away, wiping her face as she did so. A forced smile appeared.

"I'm sorry dear. I didn't mean to break down on you like that. You know he always wanted me to wear my hair down? Said I looked prettiest that way." The fake smile wavered just a touch. And then the woman turned and walked away, leaving Kim with the grave diggers and the sounds of the cemetery.

Had Kim been really listening, and had a wire inside the car the woman climbed into, she would have heard a brief burst of static and a surprisingly calm feminine voice speak. "Job's done boss." But Kim heard none of this. Instead she heard only the sound of dirt hitting the wooden coffin of officer McClay. She'd made her decision before the coffin disappeared from view.

Recently it had become difficult for Kim to slip on her mission clothes. There was no physical change, but still her arms resisted a little more each time she tried to pull the familiar garments on. Not this time though. This time her eyes burned with grim determination. Her mouth was set into a scowl which matched her eyes' glare. This time she had no trouble pulling the cloth garments over her skin. She was dressed and ready far before anyone would have expected.

The first change wasn't physical, but it hardened her resolve, strengthened her heart just the same. Then different chemicals flooded her bloodstream, a result of the emotional state she had entered. Her fists clenched and unclenched in a slow, spasmodic pattern, communicating the feelings that her words would never be able to.

She wasn't just angry. This went far beyond the feelings she felt towards her brothers' annoying antics. This was a very different feeling, one that plagued her rarely, leaving only vague memories after its departure. Normally she only tapped into it, fed its flame for a few seconds, long enough to make a few disparaging comments that she would later regret. This time though she nursed the flickering flame inside her. She fed it fuel and protected it from compassionate breezes that would extinguish its potency. In short she stoked it, preparing it for the coming confrontation.

She didn't talk to Ron for this trip, so great was her focus. His warm brown eyes merely studied her. She hadn't said much of anything since she'd picked him up. The mission briefing had come from Wade himself. Kim's only comment had been something along the lines of wanting Shego, but he wasn't sure. He really hadn't been paying much attention.

The man providing a lift, a private airline pilot Kim had once snatched from the jaws of death, was not very talkative, which left Ron to sit quietly and glance around at all the random gizmos that adorned the jet's interior. There were plush couches with little levers that, through unseen mechanism, propelled a foot rest out as the lever descended. The back also tilted backwards, transforming the white leather seat into a multi cushioned ez-boy chair.

Currently Ron was making the most of this as their transport sped towards Drakken's latest hideout.

* * *

There are many different kinds of workplaces for supervillains. One of the most famous was the lair. 

As far as lairs went this one was drafty. It was also inanely showy. Shego had been shocked speechless when Drakken had pulled the hover car in front of their lair dejour. The building her eyes had met belonged in a fairy tale. It was castle shaped, but certainly not a castle. As far as Shego was concerned castles were practical things designed to keep other people out. This one had no real outer walls. Sure there were dark stones that lead from the single entrance across the thin bridge that connected the platform of rock the building rested on to the mainland. If one were to fall off the bridge it was a long descent into inky blackness. Possibly somewhere down there was white rapids or spiky stones. It didn't really matter though, since there were guard rails along the bridge and it was securely anchored to both the island and the cliff opposite it. And the giant oaken gates were no real deterrent either. Sure the sturdy wood would make it almost impossible to go in the front way, but there were several easily accessed tunnels that led into the castle, inside the main courtyard, just in front of the wooden doors. And while the spiral staircases that curved around the outside of the towers that randomly sprouted out around the main courtyard would be perfect for a final fight in a movie, it gave an intruder even more points of entry and a great hiding spot. And the inside wasn't much better. Drakken's lab needed to be put in the cellar near the holding cells for the dungeons. And just like in all the pg rated Disney movies her family had always watched, all paths led to Drakken's new home. There was no conceivable way for an intruder to fail to reach the makeshift lab. And Drakken had sent all of his henchmen to patrol the numerous hallways of the massive, drafty building. He didn't have nearly enough, especially since she'd instead they work in teams of two. At least that way there was a slim chance one of them might get away and warn her that Kimmie was coming. She didn't hold out much hope, but very, very slim was better than none.

Shego's eyes caught sight of something, which they relayed to her brain, which added another item to the lists of why she was going to kill Drakken. The laboratory had no fewer than three points of entry, and these were visible from just a glance, that were no where near each other. Kim Possible could come in anywhere at any time and Shego didn't even have the slightest clue where to lay the trap. The villainess sighed. She would have to try and booby trap all three and hope Kim wouldn't be able to find another way in, when the teen hero eventually found them. Shego sighed again. As she set off to play the good little security guard a thought flashed through her head. She must have been Satan in a past life to deserve this.

* * *

Two feminine feet touched down on a the spiral balcony of a stone tower. It wasn't the safest of maneuver by any means, but for some inexplicable reason she never had trouble with it. Far below she saw a small bit of movement as Ron dashed across the lowered bridge. He'd felt, with justification, that it'd be safer if he just crossed it, no matter what kind of traps lay in wait. Kim had agreed. The last thing she wanted was another death on her conscious. She already had two. Despite the protests Ron was sure to give, it was her fault that Shego had been in the custody of those officers. She should have gone with them, been there to stop her escape. Maybe then those two officers would still be alive. Crimson fire burned inside her, forging her iron resolve into something harder, purer. Up ahead lightening flashed across the sky. Thunder followed sheepishly a few seconds later, it hadn't expected it'd be needed on a clear night such as this one, but some things are traditional. Storm clouds raced in, trying for all the world to look as if they had always been there. Rain splashed against Kim's stern face, obliterating all traces of the silent tears that she was certainly not having. Lightening flashed again, followed immediately by a clap of prepared thunder as Kim reached a final decision. This time Shego had gone too far. It was time to end it.

* * *

For his part Ron Stoppable was a tad nervous. It wasn't that splitting up was a new occurrence, they had done it before, just very rarely, and usually only once the villain was in sight. Him entering a compound in an entirely different way than her, at the same time, without the valid, yet slightly annoying, reason of him acting as a distraction was a tad odd. What was completely new though, was the sudden outbreak of a thunderstorm that illuminated Kim's silhouette atop one of the towers. From the angle he was at she looked, meaner, darker. Kinda like the Fearless Ferret from the comic book, which come to think of it was pretty much the opposite of the campy t.v. show. After the second crash of thunder he ran for the front gates. About halfway there he stumbled and fell through one of the less obvious secret entrances.

He landed hard, with a thud, onto Drakken's rather bony form at approximately the same time Kim appeared form an hidden alcove in the wall. Shego stared in surprise as the heroine appeared. It almost looked like Shego was waiting for Kim's opening quip. It never came.

Kim's boot lashed out, cracking hard against Shego's jaw. The emerald villainous stumbled backwards, only for another boot to strike her face. Shego's eyes watered as rights and lefts connected with a speed she hadn't thought the young heroine possessed. Blood trickled from a gash along her right temple, where one of Kim's high kicks had torn the skin. Blood pounded in Shego's ears. Time slowed inside the villainess's mind, dragging the seconds out into seeming minutes. A beating that was really only five blows long metamorphosed into one of epic proportions. Inside her mind's eye footage from an old movie played. Sylvester Stallone's head jerked from side to side as a large white head monster poured strength into every blow. Kim Possible had become that monster, that unstoppable force. But Rocky had won in the end hadn't he? It was so hard to think with her ears ringing. Kim made it a little harder by landing a fierce uppercut, that robbed Shego of her balance. Kim stepped in close while and turned her back to Shego. Kim stuck her hip back, so that it collided with Shego's. And then the villainous sped through the air. Both Ron and Drakken stopped wrestling as the sound of Shego's body smacking the cold stone captured their attention. The henchwoman gurgled as Kim placed a stylish boot upon her opponents neck. At first the foot merely rested there. Then Kim increased the pressure.

It was Ron Stoppable that ended Shego's pained expression. He hadn't yet disentangled from Drakken, but that didn't stop him from trying to reach his best friend.

"KP!"

She didn't even look at him.

In response he sped to his feet with an alacrity that would have shocked everyone there if the slightly more shocking, and pressing, matter of Shego's immanent demise at the hands of a goodytwoshoes wasn't taking place. Ron's scrawny body slammed into Kim's lithe one, instinct overriding everything else at this moment. They fell in a heap of limbs as Shego sucked in ragged breaths. Drakken stared dumbfounded for only a second more before his nasally voice burst past the protective barrier of his lips once more.

"Shego come let's get out of here.

His sidekick stood quickly, her face still red. Anger and fear mixed inside her expressive eyes..

She pulled forth the device Drakken had given her, the one they'd stolen earlier.

"One second Doc. Can't have this be a total bust," she joked, despite the pain in her face.

Her thumb descended.Twin squares shot out of the small device, landing upon the two teen heroes's foreheads. A single gloved digit depressed another button on the device. A low humming sound began. Motors and gears sparked into motion, into life. The two thin cords attaching the device to the small pads that were stuck to team Possible's heads, glowed. First they were crimson, then a pale yellow.

A sucking sound resonated throughout the room as the cords grew red. There was a small pause, a cessation of all movement as the cords switched to yellow, before sending another blast of electricity through her. The squares detached. Shego's fist burned bright green for a second, reducing the device to nothing more than a pile of slag. She took it with her anyway, as she turned towards the other side of the cave, where Drakken was hovering by the entrance to an escape route. She made to run forward, only to be shocked again that night. She knew it wasn't a delusion, because the buzzing in her head had already started to fade. All in all she would have preferred the delusion.

Kim's body inserted itself into the space between her and freedom. The lithe redhead's smile was unapologetic as Shego dropped into a fighting stance.

"Get out of my way Kimmie," Shego growled.

The smile faded from Kim's face entirely, an expression of grim determination took its place. Ron always called it her game face.

"Why? So you can kill again? Not gonna happen."

Neither woman moved. Shego broke the silence.

"Cops knew what they were getting into. Not my problem if they got hurt."

"What about their friends? Their families? Did they know too?"

Shego's flaming hand lashed out again, missing Kim's quickly ducking form by inches. Small bits of red hair were scorched by the pulsing flames. Kim barely noticed.

The teenage hero's foot lashed out, snaking behind that of the hardened villainess. Shego tumbled forward as Kim's shin crashed against the inside of her knee. Ever helpful Kim gave the villainous some extra momentum to speed the journey to the floor. Blood streamed from Shego's nose as it crunched against the flagstones. Once again she was at Kim's mercy. And once again she was saved by the buffoon.

This time Ron's arms wrapped around Kim, pulling her back. His weak muscles strained as he attempted to hold the cheerleader back against her will. A thought flashed through his brain that she must not really be trying very hard if he still had a grip on her. It wasn't true at all. She kicked out, struggling desperately to escape. But Ron's magically enhanced form kept her in check. Somehow he'd managed to tap into the mystical monkey power again. Had he known that he had he wouldn't have bothered questioning it at this time, so why should we. Slowly Kim started to shake. Her chest heaved, as sobs racked her body. No actual tears came, but from the sounds that emanated from her, Ron could tell that she was upset. His grip slackened and she turned in it, burying her face in his shoulder. Murmurs of "I'm sorry," reached his ears. And he was puzzled.

Meanwhile unmoved by the touching scene Shego escaped.

* * *

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: I REALIZE THAT I DON'T UPDATE THAT OFTEN AND THAT THESE STORIES ARE JUST BEGINNING BUT PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW. EVEN IF IT'S JUST THREE WORDS; I.E. I LIKE IT, I HATE IT. PLEASE. THE HIT COUNTER IS VERY UNRELIABLE SO IT REALLY DOESN'T HELP ME KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE READING THIS. PLEASE REVIEW SO I KNOW IF I SHOULD EVEN CONTINUE POSTING HERE..

Some comments would also really help me with my updates. If I think people actually read these things I'll spend more of my significantly limited free time on these instead of playing video games.


	4. If I Die Whilst I Sleep

Author's note: I apologize for the most likely increased amount of grammar/spelling mistakes, my beta reivewer is currently on vacation.

Also: Just in Case anyone was wondering I started writing this before so the drama; so I'm gonna pretend that that episode never happened, since it just doesn't work with the story. Also it turns out the episode: Gorrila Fist; which is on So the Drama's dvd; does fit well into my story; for those of you who haven't seen it, I'll include a brief synopsis later on, the section will be clearly marked.

Also: Thank you to those of you who reviewed. I truly appreciate it. To those of you who haven't yet, I only have this to say to you. "Come on. Come on. Come on." Thank you and have a nice day.

PLEASE REVIEW.

* * *

Chapter Four: If I Die Whilst I Sleep, I Pray My Body My Soul to Keep

* * *

They sat in silence, once again, but this time Ron was more than aware of it. He was in fact paying attention, an act that he did as rarely as possible, to it. After all that's what best friends do. They watch out for each other, and keep out an ear for rumors, and... other stuff. Right now was one of those far too numerous moments in the other stuff category. Kim sat, her arms wrapped around her knees as she rested her head upon her kneecaps. 

She looked unhappy. Moments like this Ron wished, more than usual, that he was smart, or, athletic, or even just generally useful. But he wasn't. And he was so gonna fuck this up. He just knew it. But he was her best friend, unless she'd gotten a new one and then he didn't have to do this anymore but that was absurd so he might as well just suck it up and do it, and he had a job to do. Thankfully he wouldn't have to do it alone.

A pink animal sped from his pocket. Its tiny claws tickled slightly through the thin fabric. He hardly noticed. Kim didn't either. It wasn't until Rufus was standing upon her kneecaps, squeaking at her vehemently, did she register his presence. Her head raised, and she unfolded a little bit, just enough for Rufus to squeeze up against her. The naked mole rat's tiny paws traced minute comforting circles upon her body as the tears continued. Small squeaky mutters of "there, there, not your fault," reached Ron's ears. He wasn't sure if he agreed. Kim had lost it. She'd been pounding on Shego like a crazy woman. Granted, he still wasn't convinced that, that was a bad thing, but he was pretty sure Kim had been the one doing it. He hadn't ruled out mind control, but it was supremely unlikely. There was one thing he was sure of: Kim was scary when you get her mad. That and the cold cobblestones of the abandoned lab were really making his butt sore.

* * *

Shego was fairly resilient. Early on in her life she'd learned to take a pounding. Joining a super team with your stupid, self obsessed brothers had more than covered her tuition for the school of hard knocks. Whispers in the underworld claimed that she could take a direct hit from a tank and still gut the vehicle without a problem. Generally these whispers came after the consumption of many drinks found in very small glasses, after the men had glanced around three or four times, just in case. With her there was no such thing as too careful. The whispers weren't right in even the most lenient sense of the word. They would have been correct if they'd said she was one tough bitch. 

It was because of this simple truth that Shego was merely limping at the moment. One of her eyes was slightly swollen, red puffiness clearly visible to all, though those that valued their lives seemed not to notice it. Funny thing that.

Dried blood had sealed the tear in her lip. Her hair was disheveled, like the rest of her face. The remainder of her wasn't in much better shape. Her uniform had several small tears in it, testimony to the terrible beating she'd received in such a short time. Despite all this she was arguing with her boss while they entered the warehouse Dure had claimed as a lair.

"Told you it wouldn't work," her voice was caustic, more so than normal, as if attempting to convey the words 'this is all your fault' through mere tone of voice.

"Quiet Shego," Drakken retorted, but his heart wasn't in it.

The two walked further into the warehouse, mouth's blaring, completely unaware of their surroundings. A figure watched them from above. His ears picked up their words. As each one was inspected by his internal word processor his face grew colder, angrier. When he had assembled both of their sentences the subject became even more apparent. His upper lip curled back in a show of rage, not that they noticed. Drakken and Shego merely kept arguing, unaware of Dure's presence. After a few seconds he could take no more. He would punish them. But first he wanted to hear their excuses, it would give him something to mock while he tortured them.

"I take it you failed then," the cold voice ripped them from their private argument.

High above them, on one of the catwalks that stretched across the wide converted staircase stood a man. His short cropped, black hair was barely visible from the ground level. Shego saw it though, she had very good eyes. Her eyes were so good in fact, that she caught sight of the small device resting near his hairline. She'd never seen its like before.

That didn't stop her from responding though.

"Relax it's done. We used your little toy on Kimmie and her little sidekick. Fat lot of good it did us."

His sneer of anger easily transitioned into one of mirth. He didn't wipe it from his face, as Shego would have expected him too. Instead he let it grow, smiling like a cat with a floor plan and a set of keys for the canary's cage.

"You accomplished your purpose though. That is all that matters," said Dure. For Shego that was the last straw, despite Drakken's warning glance and her aching form she moved forward, every word she spoke was laced with venom.

"Purpose? That's a laugh. It didn't do anything, geez can't anyone here be the least bit competent?"

Dure merely smiled. It was not the smile of a child who has just been given a candy bar, or even the keys to the candy store. It was the smile of a small child who has just been unleashed upon an unsuspecting babysitter. Had he been yellow and been on a certain popular t.v. show, he would have steepled his fingers and said, "excellent." As it was he forgo the finger movements and smiled down upon the irritated sidekick. His voice spilled from his lips, like oil from a jackknifed truck. "Just be patient Shego. You'd be surprised what can happen overnight."

* * *

Despite narrative assertions, night doesn't creep, nor does it descend. In reality it appears suddenly, as the sun completes the last leg of its journey while you were distracted with mundane things, like the empty bottle of rum in your hand. This is how the night found Bonnie Rockewaller. 

The smooth glass bottle had not a single drop in it, the liquid had long since evaporated. Her face was another story. Wet trails covered her delicate features, staining the golden skin. A few more drops passed beyond her chin, falling with a gentle splat onto the sandy floor of the old playground. A lonely gust of wind wound its way through the still playground, animating the corpses of swings, giving them a semblance of the life they possessed only when a young child rode high upon them.

One currently held such life, though to claim it was the happy kind it enjoyed during the brief recesses of the nearby elementary school would be a cruel joke. Right now it swung the gentle rocking swing of the terminally depressed. With every small swing a single teardrop would land on the sand. The girl resting upon the swing wasn't going very high, just a few inches in either direction, barely swinging at all. Her feet pressed against the sand the entire time perpetuating the rocking motion as she did so. Around the swing a few crickets attempted chirping and discovered they could do it quite well, so they didn't stop. More joined in, creating a soft chorus of staccato noises, slowly other wildlife filled the momentary gap the girl's sobs had caused. Soon the full symphony of the night was playing, baring its soul to a girl who was too absorbed to notice. She was also too absorbed to notice a shadow blocking one of the faint roadside lights that gave the place a semblance of illumination at night.

A soft voice, but not one of a friend, interrupted the swinger's private mourning.

"Do you really think that's the answer." The speaker's eyes were fixated on the bottle. If the swinger had been shocked at the other girl's presence, she didn't say so. Instead her two arms wrapped around the bottle, drawing it even closer. Soon it was enclosed by the barrier of her flesh. Fresh tears dripped down its neck. These were the first drops of moisture it had contained in decades. The owner of the shadow tried staying silent and still in an attempt to force the swinger into feeling the need to speak. The attempt was a miserable failure. After it sulked for a bit the attemptress finally decided it wouldn't work. Long legs carried the shadow wielder forward, to the swing set itself, where she claimed another swing, swinging with slightly more force than the bottle hugger. The two swung in silence, until the sobbing started again. Then movement ceased.

Black skin appeared in the periphery of the crying girl's vision as a delicate hand pushed brown hair away from her tear stained face. The hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, attempting to clean away the seemingly endless trail of tears. Every time one drop was removed another would replace it. Finally the comfortress let loose a low laugh, barely audible even though she was now kneeling right near the other girl.

The brunettes head raised, peering into the deep chocolate brown eyes of her comforter. Three words left the lovely girl's mouth.

"It was his."

The simple sentence left Monique without a single appropriate response. So instead Kim Possible's best friend tried comforting the teen hero's worst foe in silence.

* * *

Kim Possible was tired, which was to say that every bone in her body felt like a lead weight, every muscle felt like a wet sponge. She was even exhausted emotionally. Ever since her breakdown at the castle she'd become numb, too drained to even feel guilty. Ron had watched her with worried eyes until their ride had dropped her off at her home. She'd stumbled in through the door, as the helicopter they'd been riding in left to take Ron home. That had been her idea, he'd wanted to stay. Now, as she sat on the bed in her normal clothes, she simply sat still. Her eyelids flickered every so often as she forced them open. Her parents hadn't assaulted her with questions, in fact they hadn't greeted her at all. They were at a couples retreat, and had left the day before, the day Shego had killed officer McClay. At the thought her pocket seemed to grow heavier, as if the weight of sheer responsibility had been placed inside it. Her exhausted hand snaked down into it, pulling out a lump of metal that fought against her efforts to remove it. The mental strain it took to retrieve it belied the thing's weight. Once it was free her eyes were drawn to it, even as gravity and exhaustion drew her towards her bed. As she drifted towards the bed, she wondered if she should lock the door. The answer came a few inches closer, when she remembered the tweebs would be at a friends house till Monday. Then she fell asleep, officer McClay's badge resting next to her on the bed. 

Downstairs Ron Stoppable let himself in. He knew she'd said to go home, but he was worried. The fact that she hadn't even locked the front door made his unease increase. He crept up the stairs, all the while hoping Kim didn't notice. She'd be furious with him.

When the final stair passed under his feet he made his way inside her room. She lay there, fully clothed, breathing softly. With a sheepish smile Ron made his way downstairs. He plopped down onto the couch after locking the door. After all he'd changed his mind on a free ride to make sure she was okay, the fact that she was napping wouldn't change that.

* * *

In her dreams, Kim Possible was under attack. Things were not going in her favor. There was no life left in her arms, or come to think of it, any other part of her. Every Kick the her tormentor threw her way sent sharp pain racing through a system that shouldn't contain pain. But she wasn't really there. It was a metaphor. Of that she was sure, because there was a giant blue baboon holding a neon sign that flashed the words, "You're dreaming. This is all a giant metaphor. For the answer please turn to page ten of your guidebooks. Not you Miss Possible. You don't have one. And yes this is probably a metaphor too. Have a good day, that was not a metaphor," in deep reds and browns. All in all she preferred it to the nightmares she'd been having recently. Well up until the monkey dropped the sign, pulled out an ax, lopped off her head, and tore her soul from her headless corpse. In the nothingness of dream her bodyless soul watched the simian pick up her head and carry it away. After a while she felt a strange tug and arrived to see a pink sloth leaving with Ron's head. Her monkey, with a fanatical amount of care and precision, screwed her head onto Ron's body. And then it smiled at her and gestured. She felt a sharp tug, and then she was following it into the bizarre body.

She remembered thinking that this would still make no sense in the morning. She was most probably wrong. But then again, metaphor's are funny things.

* * *

Three shadowy figures sat around a table. It was not the kind of table such figures usually congregate around. For one thing it was rather plain. For another, it was square. Which just goes to show not all shadowy figures are the same. These shadowy figures for example weren't all that dumb. They wore normal clothing, bereft of any baseball caps or sunglasses. The only item adorning any of their faces was a single pair of normal glasses one of them wore. In fact technically speaking, at the moment there was very little that was shadowy about these individuals. They sat in the bright, artificial light of a Dennys, having a normal toned conversation amid the din of the restaurant. An observer would have been hard placed to find anything sinister about them. Had there been a man eavesdropping he would have heard no secret codes, ominous pauses, or anything at all symbolic in the conversation. Had the eavesdropper been keen and good at his job, he would have found this quite odd. After all everyone had little abbreviations and codes for things they didn't want to mention by name, like an ex, or the latest one night stand who happens to be standing in line behind you. All this changed one when of the figures began talking about a her, you know the one I'm talking about, oh come on don't deny it, you want her don't you Mr, I'm so big bad and gay. You want your bossie, you want your bossie. 

When Shego saw Dure the next morning, he was sporting a shiner.


End file.
